


something nameless and lovely

by sapphireoftarth



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: (They're Married), (i gave them a daughter), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, As One Does, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Kid Fic, Romance, because i didn't actually write them having sex, but i'm leaving things as they are, even if they're talking about it a lot, some really sappy nonsense, the line between M and T is kind of wavy, this fic probably looks like a mess but i'm actually proud of it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-07 14:18:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13436562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphireoftarth/pseuds/sapphireoftarth
Summary: Sansa and Stannis discuss who shouldn’t be able to walk after sex, except it's not so much a discussion as it is an acceptance of the truth.





	something nameless and lovely

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve got a significantly longer wip for Stansa hanging out in my google drive, but this fic decided to spring forth within two days, so this is how I’m making my entrance to this lovely ship. I can’t exactly describe my thought process besides Sansa is the world’s biggest top, Stannis needs to let go of all that control at _some_ point in time, and I live for domestic fluffy nonsense so... you’re welcome.

Stannis shifts in his chair, trying to get comfortable. It’s not like he didn’t ask for it, but sitting is an adventure this weekend.

“Got something up your arse, Stannis?” Robert laughs uproariously, somehow not spilling a drop of his wine.

“No,” Stannis replies, his mouth twisting into a scowl. _But I did last night,_ he thinks, clenching his jaw at the thought.

“You always look like you do.” Robert laughs again and stands up. “I’m going to go find Ned.”

Sansa saunters up to Stannis only a second after Robert disappears. Her sundress flutters around her knees and she smiles his second favorite smile.

“You look beautiful,” he says. Stannis never says much more than that, because he’s frankly terrible at giving compliments or doing anything more than useful with words, but his wife knows this and her smile broadens.

“Thank you.” Sansa’s smile softens when she watches him shift for the second time since she walked up. She steps closer, sitting where Robert just was. She leans in until her lips are practically touching his ear.

His hands may or may not be clenching the arms of his chair until his knuckles turn white.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Stannis turns his head, breathing out a “No” inches from her lips. “I’m just sore. A little more than usual maybe, but I asked for it.” He huffs out a laugh and kisses Sansa, relishing the feeling of her lips against his.

She pulls away, because they’re very much in public and her parents are five feet away. “You rather seemed to be past the point of asking and somewhere into begging,” she says, her eyebrows raised, but her voice pitched low.

Stannis fights the flush threatening to crawl up his neck. “Maybe I was,” he says, his voice cracking slightly.

“Oh, you absolutely were,” Sansa replies, her voice rising slightly as she rolls her eyes. “Stop trying to save face.”

Catelyn chooses that exact moment to wander over. “And what are you two having such a heated conversation about?”

Stannis is certain he’s bright red, but Sansa leans back and crosses her legs nonchalantly. “Stannis is pretending that he didn’t act like an absolute idiot last night while we had a fight.”

Catelyn raises an eyebrow. “I see.”

_Having a fight? She couldn’t have picked anything better as a stand-in?_ _Oh, well. Beggars can’t be choosers,_ Stannis thinks, and grits his teeth.

“Stannis, watch your teeth,” Sansa says automatically.

“My teeth are fine and last night was hardly a fight, Sansa.”

Catelyn looks at Sansa, then Stannis, then back at Sansa. “Should I make myself scarce?”

“Of course not,” Sansa says, standing up and promptly dumping herself on her husband’s lap. She wraps her arms around his neck and looks at him fondly. “You don’t think that we’d be actually having a fight in front of you and Dad when you both put up such a fuss about us in the first place?”

“We’re past that,” Catelyn replies, but her eyebrows don’t get any lower. “Where are the girls, do you know?”

“I’m a terrible mother and have absolutely no clue.” Sansa actually doesn’t know where her daughter and Robb’s little girl are, but they’re fine. There’s a million adults around and it’s not like either of them are going to die without constant supervision.

Stannis is the tiger parent out of the two of them, which surprised no one except Ned. Sansa has watched as Edith fell off her trike, calmly walked over and asked her if she was bleeding, and then sat back down again once she discovered nothing was wrong.

Stannis actually called 911 once when Edith choked on broccoli. By the time the operator had hung up on him, Sansa had performed the Heimlich on their daughter and resumed eating.

Ned had not been able to stop staring at Sansa, his lovely competent daughter, not lifting a finger as her daughter smeared mashed potatoes in her hair. Edith was two and a half at the time, old enough to not be doing that unless it was on purpose. Stannis had dropped his fork the moment he had noticed and started fussing about what a bad girl Edie was being.

Sansa had placed her hand on her husband’s back gently. “Stannis, darling, let her be. She’s a child and she was going to have a bath after dinner anyways.”

Stannis had turned to his wife, sighed, and picked up his fork again.

Today is no different.

Stannis pushes Sansa off his lap. “I’m going to go find them.”

“Edie is fine!” Sansa yells after him, but he’s already off on his hunt, albeit with an odd gait.

“Did Stannis twist his ankle or something?” Catelyn turns to her daughter, her lemonade raised to her lips in question.

“He stepped on Edie’s legos last night,” Sansa lies. “You know what a bitch those things are.”

“Sansa!” Catelyn’s eyes widen. Her daughter _never_ swears, much less possibly around children.

Sansa shrugs. She’s perfected the art of not giving a shit after her teenage years were spent giving far too many. Stannis used to ask her if she ever got angry, when they were first dating. She does, but she thinks that he’ll be hard pressed to remember more than two times she’s raised her voice.

That was what drew him to her in the beginning, he says. Her level-headedness. And her beauty, but he talks about that less. He hardly talks about their relationship to begin with, but he’s not much for words, so Sansa doesn’t mind.

When they first started dating, she had wondered if he was actually that interested in her or just wanted a fling with a young woman five years older than his daughter. She didn’t feel used if he did, thinking that she wouldn’t mind a fling with a man seventeen years older than her, but she had wondered.

She doesn’t wonder now. Not ever. Stannis assures her quite often of his affections for her, and Shireen often tells them they need to get a room when they’re standing on opposite ends of the room, just looking at each other.

Stannis returns with Edie in tow, her black curls slipping out of her ponytail.

“Let me fix your hair, honey,” he says, sitting in his abandoned chair and pulling his daughter between his legs.

“It’s fine, Daddy,” Edie protests, but lets her father redo her ponytail anyways.

Sansa watches them with a smile on her face. “It’s just going to come out again in an hour, Stannis,” she says fondly.

Stannis remains fixed on his work, pulling the pink hair band off his wrist. “Her hair is in her face and she can hardly see.”

Once he’s done, he kisses the top of Edie’s head and pats her back. “All done.”

“Thank you, Daddy,” Edie says, wrapping her arms around her father’s neck.

“You’re welcome, Edith.” Stannis meets Sansa’s eyes as he attempts to pry Edie’s hands off of him. “Now say hello to Grandma and Mommy.”

Edie turns and slides off her father’s lap. “Hi Mommy! Hi Grandma!” She yells, and immediately runs towards Ned. Her grandfather is one of her favorite people. He swoops Edie into his arms nearly immediately, his face lighting up.

Sansa laughs and asks her mother if she’d like more lemonade.

“Yes please,” Catelyn says. “Thank you, dear.” She hands her glass to her daughter and turns to Stannis. “I really don’t know why you insist on calling your daughter Edith. You’re the only person on the planet who does that.”

Sansa listens to her mother and Stannis have this argument all the time. It’s not worth listening to. Especially because Stannis would rather die than let anyone know he allows Sansa to call him Stan occasionally.

Stannis would rather die before he let anyone know a lot of things about their relationship, but he’s just private, and Sansa is perfectly alright with that. She likes being private too.

Thankfully, neither of her parents have ever managed to find out anything about their sex life, but both Arya and Robb have walked in on some precarious situations. Sansa is fairly certain bribing her younger sister to say nothing about making out upstairs with her boyfriend her parents didn’t approve of while everyone else was downstairs eating dinner verges on the stupider end of things she’s had to do, but she married Stannis, so it’s not like it’s the same blackmail material it used to be.

Robb managed to walk in on them having sex at the Christmas party one year. That Sansa regrets. But also she was very busy and didn’t have time to worry about locking the door, so it’s kind of her brother’s fault. He had looked at her and Stannis very oddly for months afterwards, even though they had been married for over a year. Sansa had finally told him that if he didn’t forget about it, she’d force him to. Robb had mumbled something about how he’d never wanted to know what his sister’s sex face looked like before promising he’d try to get his act together. He still looks odd sometimes after Stannis and Sansa have kissed in front of him.

Stannis is turning fifty next year, and Sansa thinks that they should do something special, but Edie latches onto her leg when she’s pouring lemonade into her mother’s glass, so the thought gets lost as she juggles a five year-old wanting to be held and a breakable container full of liquid.

Edie is small for her age, which is odd considering her parents’ height, but recessive genes do exist, and Sansa likes to call Edie her little doll. Shireen practically never calls her half-sister anything except “doll,” which pisses her father off, but Stannis is easily riled up, so it’s not actually a problem.

Shireen swoops in to rescue her stepmother, her face lighting up as her hands reach for Edie. “Come here, doll,” she coos. Thankfully, Edie just wants to be held and isn’t pitching a fit about being transferred from her mother’s arms. She’s probably tired, seeing as she decided to wake up two hours earlier than she normally does this morning.

Sansa walks back outside and gives her mother her glass. “We might be leaving soon,” she says. “Edie is starting to fall apart.”

“Of course,” Catelyn replies. “If I don’t catch you again before you leave, I’ll see you next Thursday.”

“Thursday?” Sansa swears becoming a mother murdered every brain cell responsible for remembering remotely important things.

“You invited us over for dinner?” Catelyn raises her eyebrows.

Stannis is across the backyard, deep in conversation with Myrcella’s boyfriend, so Sansa can’t look at him to confirm. “Oh,” she says instead. “I forgot about that.”

Catelyn laughs. “It’s fine. Talk to Stannis and text me as we get closer.” She leans in to kiss her daughter’s cheek. “You know,” she says, giving Sansa a piercing stare. “I’m glad he makes you so happy.”

“Thank you,” Sansa replies, waiting for the “but” statement coming.

“But he really is starting to show his age. He’s lost half his hair and what he has is mostly gray. Do people ask you if he’s Edie’s grandfather?”

Sansa doesn’t even try to suppress the urge to roll her eyes. “Mom, he was balding when I started dating him. I was under no illusions about the amount of hair on his head. Besides, I think the gray makes him look distinguished. And no, people don’t. Not yet, at least. When they do, I expect we’ll manage as we always have: polite correction. It’s not anyone else’s business what we look like.”

Catelyn Stark has been preoccupied with how things look since the day she was born. She almost didn’t marry Ned because dating him after dating his dead brother “looked funny.” It’s always irked Sansa, but she does her best not to engage with her mother about the topic too often. It’s not healthy or going to change anything. The fact that Stannis _could_ be Edie’s grandfather isn’t something she hasn’t thought about, but she and Stannis discussed this before trying to have a baby. It’s not a problem for them. If other people have a problem with it, Sansa’s not concerned by it.

Her mother hmmphs and takes a long drink of her lemonade. Shireen reappears right then, a sobbing Edie in her arms.

“She started crying the moment I asked her how much fun she was having,” Shireen says, passing her sister back to Sansa.

“Come here, darling,” Sansa croons. “Should we go find Daddy and go home? Hmm?”

Edie nods snottily into her shoulder. Sansa rubs her back and gives her mother an apologetic look. “I think we’ve been interrupted for good. I’ll text you.”

Catelyn nods and hums her agreement, her mouth full of lemonade.

Sansa weaves her way across the backyard to Stannis, freeing a sweaty arm from holding their daughter to touch him and get his attention.

“Yes?” Stannis turns to look at her, and immediately his face settles into understanding. He shakes George’s hand and wishes him a good evening. “I’ve got a little girl to go put in bed,” he says. “Edith, do you want to come here?”

Edie raises her head, her face red and covered in snot. Sansa can’t help her reflex to wipe her daughter’s nose and does so quickly, wiping her hand on the skirt of her dress. It needs to be washed anyways. Stannis takes Edie, his strong arms pulling her close to his chest.

“Come on, darling. Let’s go get in the car and let Mommy wash her hands.”

“I’ve got wipes in my purse,” Sansa replies. “And you know that calling her darling isn’t going to make her stop crying.”

Stannis raises an eyebrow at her. She knows exactly what he’s thinking. Sometimes he calls her darling and _she_ stops crying.

All the same, Edie is five. She doesn’t work like a grown woman.

Stannis raises his other eyebrow and shakes his head slightly as Edie’s wails grow louder.

Sansa realizes she’s been having a nonverbal conversation with her husband in front of a man she doesn’t know very well and smiles awkwardly. “Have a good evening, George.”

“You too, Mrs. Baratheon,” he replies, looking kind of nervous.

Sansa laughs as Stannis starts to walk towards the back door, Edie still sobbing into his chest. “Don’t call me that,” she says. “I’m Sansa and I’m probably not _that_ much older than you. How old are you? Twenty-three?”

“Twenty-two,” George replies, scratching the back of his neck.

“Oh, I suppose we’re miles off since I’m thirty-two, but if you’re calling my husband Stannis, you’re calling me Sansa. I really need to go,” she says apologetically, her smile bright. “But it was nice to meet you and I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

“Yes.” George waves a little awkwardly.

Sansa catches Myrcella in the kitchen for five seconds. “I think your boyfriend thinks I’m weird.”

Myrcella rolls her eyes. “He’s just overwhelmed by how weirdly convoluted the Stark-Baratheon family ties are. He’ll be fine, and you’re not weird.”

Sansa squeezes Myrcella’s arm and kisses her cheek. “I’ve got to run. Edie’s having a terrible meltdown and it’s twenty minutes home.”

“I noticed,” Myrcella replies. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” Sansa calls, already halfway out the front door.

Stannis has the car running and Edie’s favorite CD playing. He hates the dinky kids music, but it appears to be calming her down at least some, so he’s grinding his teeth and bearing it.

Sansa places her hand on his arm after she’s put her seatbelt on. “Let’s go home,” she says softly.

Edie’s cried herself to sleep by the time Stannis pulls into their driveway, so Sansa pries her small hands off her carseat and carries her in to bed.

Stannis kisses Edie’s forehead before he turns off the light. He and Sansa stand in the doorway for a long minute, his hand on her back, and watch their child sleep.

“I think children manage to intake more oxygen than adults. There’s no other explanation for how long and how loudly they can cry,” Sansa says, after they’ve shut the door and tiptoed down the hall.

“Don’t be absurd,” Stannis replies. “If anything, their lungs are smaller.”

She leans into him at the top of the stairs, relishing the feeling of his body against hers. “I’m joking, dear.”

His hand rises to run over her hair. She hums contentedly.

“I need to change over the laundry.” Stannis doesn’t stop petting her hair. “And Edith left a mess in the living room that didn’t get cleaned up before we left.”

“I know,” Sansa says, leaning into her husband. “Stay here for a minute with me anyways?”

Stannis would never admit to anyone exactly how long he stands there with Sansa, doing absolutely nothing except finding comfort in her touch.

Later, after Sansa has a shower and Stannis is in bed reading, she looks at him. She looks at him for so long that he lowers his book and looks over his glasses at her.

“What?” He asks, only a hint of irritation entering his voice. “Have I grown a second nose? Lost what little hair I have left?”

“If you live to be a hundred, I want to live to be a hundred minus one day so I never have to live without you,” Sansa says, her throat tight with emotion.

Stannis reaches for his bookmark on his nightstand and shuts his book. “That hardly seems likely,” he says dryly, but he smiles at her in the way he does when he’s feeling especially in love with her.

“Hush,” Sansa says, her smile spreading wide. “Let me quote Winnie the Pooh at you. I’m being romantic. Besides,” she pulls back the covers and slides in next to her husband, “I mean it.”

His hand cradles her cheek. “You can quote anything you like at me anytime you want, Sansa.”

His gaze is intense, as always, but she knows he’s about to kiss her, so she doesn’t mind. She hardly minds anything about Stannis- which her siblings still express disbelief about. That was the biggest obstacle in their relationship, actually, convincing people that she liked him and wasn’t faking it for his money (which is really, _really_ stupid considering how large her trust fund was).

He was the first man to ask her things and to not expect her to say yes, the first to treat her like she deserved to be treated. He shouldn’t have been the first, but Sansa’s glad he was. She’s glad they chose each other.

Stannis makes her incredibly happy. He’s safety and security and _home._

She hums contentedly into his mouth, happy to love and be loved.

He breaks their kiss, leaning his forehead against hers. “One of us has to be the romantic one.”

Sansa laughs. “As if you don’t make me feel like the luckiest woman on earth.”

Stannis always gets embarrassed when she talks about him like that, even if he enjoys it. He kisses her again so he doesn’t have to respond.

“I’m tired,” she says, after a minute of languid kissing. “I hope you’re not expecting anything tonight.”

Her husband snorts. “Of course not. Besides, I’d like to be able to actually walk tomorrow.”

Sansa thinks that she’s hardly stopped smiling since she and Stannis got together. “If you want me to fuck you so hard you can’t walk, we _can_ arrange a time when you don’t have work in the morning.”

Stannis grunts and rolls over to turn his light off, his glasses carefully placed on his nightstand. Sansa eyes him, waiting for him to crack.

He plumps his pillow and still doesn’t meet her eyes. “You’re going to actually be the death of me someday, woman.”

“But if it’s _la petite mort,_ it’s not a problem, now is it?” She arches an eyebrow and makes no move to turn her own light off.

Finally, he looks at her. “I seem to remember Robert telling me something about making sure _you_ couldn’t walk on our honeymoon.”

“You’re avoiding my proposition,” Sansa says. “And as I recall, you ensured that your brother wouldn’t be making those comments anymore.”

Stannis pinches the bridge of his nose. “I am forty-nine years old. I have a successful career and will be able to retire comfortably when I choose to do so. I have fathered two daughters and am happily married. Remind me again why you’re harassing me?”

“Because,” she smirks. “You’re married to _me._ And you _want_ me to harrass you, because you’ll never ask for it yourself. You’re too _dignified_ to admit you like the thought of me fucking you until you can’t walk. So, Stannis, are you going to say that I should ask my parents to watch Edie next Friday night, or are you going to continue to pretend the thought isn’t turning you on?”

There are two spots of red high on his cheeks, and he’s staring at the ceiling. “Fine,” he huffs. “But if you’re going to make me an invalid, you have to take care of me.”

“Of course,” Sansa replies. She leans over to kiss him before turning off her light. “There now, that wasn’t so hard.”

It had taken her a year and a half of sharing Stannis’s bed for him to admit that he wouldn’t mind being tied up every once in awhile. Sansa didn’t even get her fingers up his ass until they were engaged, and only managed to fuck him for the first time on their honeymoon.

He’s not the best at asking for this stuff. He’s not the best at asking for anything he wants. That’s fine. She knows his soul as well as her own- every want and desire Stannis has ever had flickers inside of her.

She snuggles up to him, placing her head on his chest. “I love you,” she says.

“I love you more,” he whispers, kissing the top of her head.

Sansa doesn’t dispute that.

Stannis’s legs give out on him when he tries to go to the bathroom next Friday night. He looks up at Sansa, his mouth quirking into a smile. “I can’t believe you actually managed to do that.”

Sansa smiles his favorite smile- the one when she’s naked with him- and slides off their bed to sit on the floor with him. “I wasn’t about to go back on my word,” she says. “Now, would you like some help?”


End file.
